


Celebration

by lirulin



Series: Sarek and Amanda [10]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/M, Gen, Holidays, Homesickness, Vulcans Being Vulcans, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Young Spock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-24
Updated: 2009-06-24
Packaged: 2020-08-14 05:55:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20187394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lirulin/pseuds/lirulin
Summary: For as long as Spock could cohesively remember his mother had always celebrated inexplicable occasions. Five times Amanda attempted to celebrate Earth holidays with Sarek and Spock, and the one time they surprised her.





	1. New Year's

For as long as Spock could cohesively remember, which was quite a considerable span of his life, his mother had always celebrated inexplicable occasions. The days on which she practiced them were hardly of note and very infrequently did she celebrate on the same day the next year. Of those many strange and scattered occasions, the one he became the most rapidly acquainted with was the celebration of one calendar year passing into the next. In fact, one of his earliest memories was of this particular celebration.

"Should old acquaintance be forgot, and ne'er brought to mind?" Amanda sung softly as she swirled a replicated flute of light amber liquid. Her glass bubbled and Spock watched her as she tabbed through the feeds on the wall display until she'd found the one she was looking for.

A place Spock didn't recognize appeared on the screen—it was dark there, though the sensors managed to pick up the gentle myriad of subdued lighting and the reflected glow of the screen itself. The room was full of humans, packed tightly and clad in metallic hats—much like the one his mother had perched on his own head—and carrying noise-making instruments—much like the ones she'd attempted to hand his father. His father had declined and gone to meditate.

A man with unruly dark hair appeared in front of the sensor—Spock backed up against his seat reflexively as the large face eclipsed the scene. His eyes were wide, his cheeks red, and his chin was covered in untamed, lengthy hair. Spock furrowed his brow and warily watched the man as he grinned and struck the side of his glass with his fingers. The dull, off-key sound attracted the attention of the room, and he bellowed at them jovially.

"_Hey—Got her'—Mandi's on and her little one too!"_ The humans let out various sounds—loud and moderately shrill—as they waved at the screen. Spock was not sure what to make of them and was relieved when their collective eyes were blotted out by the strange man.

"Good to see you, Jeff," Amanda interrupted and Spock's eyes traveled from the screen to her. He had never seen that particular expression on his mother before—she had a broad, wry grin and an eyebrow arched as high as it would go. Her hip was jutted out and she balanced her drink-arm's elbow on it as she drummed her fingers on the wall. "How's the lag?"

The man on the screen was unmoving just long enough that Spock was certain his mother was going to repeat herself. His eyes traveled back and forth from the screen to her at least twice in the interim. Finally, the man's smile split his face again and he stepped back a bit from the sensors. He was very broad and clad in very distasteful, patterned clothing. Spock wondered the merits of a silver jacket and decided to ask his mother about it later.

"_Not too bad—only about seven seconds, or so it says."_ A woman pushed up from behind him and waved her fingers at the screen.

"_Oh he's just adorable, Mandi—I could eat him right up!"_ The woman was very focused on Spock and Spock's eyes widened slightly as she flashed a small, too sharp smile at him.

"It's okay, sweetheart," his mother interrupted the woman as she exuberantly explained the party. Amanda was smiling gently and inclined her head toward the screen. "It's a euphemism. It means she likes you." Somewhere during the exchange, the woman on the screen went from talking to watching them—her heavily painted lips transformed into a concerned frown and the burly man clapped her on the back as he started laughing.

"_You scared him Jen! Give the poor kid a break!"_

"_Oh, Mandi, I'm sorry! Came on a bit strong, I think,"_ the woman added and shoved the burly man in the chest as he wrapped his arm around her. His mother turned back to the screen and smiled.

"It's fine—don't worry about it, Janette," Amanda commented easily and her eyes darted to the clock. The chronometer on the display was ticking down with atomic accuracy, but she still managed to ask, "How much longer?"

Seven seconds later, the man lifted his drink-arm and glanced at his wristwatch. "_A little more than five—say, where's that pointy-eared stick-in-the-sand husband of yours?"_

"Meditating," Amanda answered and laughed, "It's the middle of July here, you know."

"Mother," Spock interrupted and Amanda turned to him in surprise, "I do not know July—are we celebrating it?"

"No sweetheart," Amanda stepped back from the wall and to the side of his chair—the man on the screen had just started a retort as she did so. By the time she reached the chair, the majority of the humans in the room were laughing genially—the man and woman included. "It's the change of the year on Earth, we're celebrating that."

"_Oh, Mandi, he's just fantastic!"_ The man commented and Amanda smiled at him as she set her free hand on Spock's shoulder. His predominant question answered, Spock returned to his observations. The man on the screen continued his speech, but was interrupted as the woman clapped him on the shoulder and pointed out the chronometer on the far wall. As a second display in the room lit up—it was displaying an even larger crowd gathered beneath a holographic sphere of light—his mother perched on the arm of his chair and tapped his hat.

"So," she explained, "when that ball reaches the bottom and touches the ground, it's the new year. We're supposed to count down and, when it goes dark, you're supposed to give your date a very big kiss."

"I will...kiss a...day?" Spock asked and stared at his mother as though she'd come unhinged. How she managed to keep from laughing, in retrospect, Spock didn't know. She merely shook her head and indicated the crowd on the screen. Everyone in the room was standing significantly closer to the person next to them—the whole group had divided into pairs.

"Since your father wants nothing to do with this," Amanda explained and Spock looked back at her. "You're my date—is that acceptable, Spock?"

Spock paused and watched as the group cheered—the ball went up to the top of its support and the entire gathering was fixated on the far display. He turned back to his mother and regarded her with even curiosity. "Yes," he answered and Amanda smiled. The group on the television began to count and, as they reached seven he pushed himself up out of his chair and pressed his lips against his mother's cheek. She let out a surprised sound and blinked down at him.

"Oh—what was that?" Amanda questioned, her eyes bright and amused. Spock took some pleasure in the fact that she was happier now than when the burly man had appeared on screen. As the numbers counted by, she frowned and laughed. "Oh! The display is seven seconds late! How smart you are!"

Spock understood that his mother knew more than her first repetition of numbers—but he felt warm under her praise. When the crowd reached zero, she placed an exuberant kiss on his forehead and let him try some of her drink—it was dry and bitter. He did not enjoy his sip.


	2. Halloween

"I do not understand," Spock admitted hesitantly as Amanda fussed over his strange clothing. His mother was clad in what appeared to be a bed-linen, wrapped elegantly across her left shoulder and fastened around her waist with an intricate, gold chord. Spock did not like the false hair that she wore—the straight, black, shoulder length fibers gave her the appearance of having a standard Vulcan haircut. He missed her long brown hair. He glanced at his father who stood just a few feet away, regarding them with disinterest. "Why am I dressed in such a manner?"

"Well, sweetheart," Amanda started and Sarek pointedly cleared his throat. She ignored him with a roll of her eyes-for reasons she had never discussed, his father disliked her nicknames for him-and adjusted the fabric draped around his shoulders. "On Earth, tonight, children your age travel around and collect candy from houses—it's called trick-or-treating."

"Trick-or-treating?" Spock prompted and she smiled.

"You're supposed to say Trick-or-Treat when they open the door. They can either provide you with candy, or suffer your mischievous intentions," Amanda elaborated and her eyes took on a strangely cheerful glimmer. Spock wasn't sure what to make of this.

"Children practice extortion while costumed?" Spock asked and Amanda's expression went flat—he regretted asking, but still wanted to know.

"Essentially," his father responded before Amanda could. She shot him a withering glance—he was unmoved—and turned back to Spock.

"Why do human children gather candy?" Spock asked and Amanda looked confused.

"Because it's free?" Amanda supplied hesitantly, as though she had missed the point.

"Do they have an imperative need for candy?" Spock arched an eyebrow and a look of understanding dawned across his mother's face. She took a breath through her mouth and hummed as she let it out through her nose.

"Spock," she started flatly as she stood. She ran her hand across his head and he furrowed his brow as she patted his back. "I love you, sweetheart. Humor, mommy, alright?" Spock gave her a resigned nod—he had already humored her and dressed as...Legolas, was it? He glanced down at his generally green attire as though it would carry the answer—it did not.

"I presume I am expected to join you," his father spoke from across the room as his mother set up the capture device. She glanced at him—he was clad in his standard black robes, though he did have an orange pin affixed just below his collar. Amanda had explained that the shape was a vegetable that children hollowed and carved into temporary lanterns. It's significance eluded both Spock and Sarek, but she was happier when he wore it.

"I would love to have you in the picture, Dear," Amanda answered evenly, as though he should have known better than to ask, and flashed him a sweet smile. Sarek released a nearly audible breath, inclined his head, and crossed to the foyer. He stopped alongside Spock just as Amanda stepped back from the capture device.

"Alright, everyone say-_My child is cuter than yours, Jeff_," Amanda chimed. Neither of them actually said it. When Amanda saw the image, she couldn't help but laugh at the identical expressions on their faces. She flashed it to them, pointed out the raised eyebrows, and commented that Spock really was his father's son. Neither of them understood the expression—of course he was, Sarek was Spock's father, after all.


	3. Easter

"I know, I know," Amanda explained, exasperated, as she set down the tray on the dining table. Neither Sarek nor Spock knew, expressly, why they were here or the reason for her unusual tone. The contents of the tray included several replicated eggs, wire ladles, and a series of decorative dyes and coloring implements. "This has absolutely _nothing_ to do with the reasoning behind this holiday."

She handed Spock a ladle and held one out to Sarek until he took it from her. Upon passing them out, she slid the tray into the middle of the circular table and demonstrated, silently, how to pick up and dye one of the eggs. Both Vulcans watched her in silence—she drew a simplified depiction of a smiling face on the shell, coated it unevenly in reflective colored powder, and set it down on the table.

"I've always loved this holiday," she admitted sincerely and her eyes traveled from Spock's to Sarek's until she was absolutely certain she held their full attention. "If you'll decorate them with me, _without argument_, I won't make you search for them later." She waited until they both inclined their heads.

"I have a question," Spock said and his mother's attention focused on him so sharply he was concerned she might be upset. "Once they have been decorated...must we consume them?" The thought turned his stomach and Amanda's expression soften as she shook her head.

"I'll have one and we can feed the rest to I-Chaya," she settled.

There was relative silence, punctuated only by Amanda's periodic praise of their work, as they decorated the dozen replicated eggs. Spock's favored the color purple and all bore smiling faces, as his mother's example indicated. Sarek's eggs, as he was aware of their intended purpose, were colored in patterns similar to the landscape. Amanda jokingly asserted that he was _mean_ and vocally considered hiding the eggs for I-Chaya. Sarek pointed out that I-Chaya was incapable of fine scenting and it was decided that they would simply take an image of the eggs before shelling them and feeding them to the pet.

Years later, Jim Kirk would be startled that Spock inexplicably understood the expression _"Easter Egg"_.


	4. Valentine's Day

Spock had wondered for several weeks why his mother had marked a heart on the seventy-sixth day of the Vulcan calendar. In this particular year, that day fell in the middle of the working period and held no particularly notable qualities that he could discern. Nevertheless, she made it very apparent that the day was significant by recording it on all of the chronometers within their household and in several places within his father's study.

Spock was perplexed and he grew ever more so as the date drew near. His mother was increasingly cheerful, had a significant lightness in her gait, and her eyes lingered on his father for seconds longer than usual. Though something in his biology disliked the idea of heavily contemplating his parents' relationship, he was fairly certain that this day was significant.

So it was, with keen interest and moderate hesitation, that Spock observed his mother on the marked day. That morning, she prepared a complex dish for breakfast and the plating arrangement was significantly more elegant than was strictly called for. She placed a lingering kiss on his father's lips, rather than his cheek as she often did, and was smiling broadly as all three parted ways.

When Spock arrived home, nearly a full hour before his father was scheduled to return and a full hour after his mother's class schedule concluded, the house was littered with alien flora. Upon investigation of the frequent and well spaced bouquets, reviewed with his scientific text, Spock identified the predominant flower as the _Rosa chinensis_. It was easily identifiable, though the synthesizing had darkened the redness of the petals and elongated the leaf clusters considerably.

"Spock?" His mother's voice sing-songed his name from the kitchen. He cast a final glance at the extensive decoration before placing his bag on his most regularly utilized chair. Free from burden, he walked to the kitchen. As he crossed the threshold, however, he came to an abrupt halt.

His mother was clad in a long red gown with a slit up the side that revealed her legs up just past her knee. On her feet were a pair of red sandals angled to balance her weight on spiked supports no less than eight centimeters in height and, judging by the color of her legs, she appeared to be wearing some sheer garment. Her long hair was down and she had pinned it back with a dark clasp—as she turned to face him, he noted her features were painted over with cosmetics.

Spock was rendered incapable of speech for several seconds. His mother was an aesthetically pleasing woman—in fact, she was the very gauge by which he determined what was or was not _beautiful_-but he'd never seen her in any manner of dress similar to this. Frankly, it was startling. Briefly he considered that it might be Halloween—but she'd not insisted on dressing him any any fashion.

"What do you think?" she prompted as she indicated her garments. Spock blinked silently and fought to keep his brow from furrowing with confusion—after a second, she beamed at him and returned to stirring the pan before her. "I hope your father likes it." Spock had no comment.

"Did you require aid?" Spock asked after a few seconds and watched as his mother shifted her attention back and forth across the myriad of dishes she was preparing. She had always professed a like of cooking—she jovially blamed it on her inability to purchase a replicator during her college years—and did so with frequency, but Spock had never witnessed her making anything of this complexity.

"Yes, actually," she commented without looking back at him. Something in the pan before her sizzled and Spock instinctively took a long breath through his nose. He hadn't been hungry before walking in, but the sensation was quickly forming. "Could you set the table for me? I don't think I can manage it _and_ keep this from burning." The pan crackled ominously and she flipped its contents with admirable coordination. "Everything should be on the table, sweetheart."

Spock inclined his head and went about his task. As he sorted the plates and utensils, he came to the realization that he was one setting short. He furrowed his brow as he carefully arranged the table—he presumed the candles, though extraneous, were intended to go in the center of everything. Once done, he reentered the kitchen in time to find his mother covering the pans and shutting off the heating units.

"I believe you miscounted," Spock announced and she froze. He arched an eyebrow as she jerked back into motion—she turned and cast him an embarrassed, apologetic smile.

"Spock, sweetheart," she started slowly and Spock folded his hands behind his back, "It's Valentine's day."

"Is it an Earth celebration?" Spock asked and Amanda nodded ruefully.

"It's supposed to be a romantic evening," she explained and crossed the kitchen to his side. She bent at the knee until she was even with his eye level and placed one of her hands on his shoulder. "I made enough for you, too, sweetie...but tonight I want to have dinner with your father."

Spock frowned. "You intend to be...romantic?"

"Yes," Amanda said with a serious nod, "Yes, I do."

Spock cocked his head to the side just slightly and his brows drew together as he considered his mother's outfit and the extent to which she had gone to create a specific visceral atmosphere. He decided, after several seconds of serious thought, that he saw them kiss far too frequently as it was. He inclined his head in agreement and Amanda smiled.

"May I eat now?" Spock asked and Amanda beamed as she stood back up.

"Of course."

Sarek arrived home exactly seventeen minutes and thirty seven seconds later than his established norm. When he did, Spock quickly dealt with his dishes and retrieved his school work. As he traveled up the stairs to his designated room, he saw his mother embrace his father—he didn't hear what she said, but his father's ears flushed green as she said it. He frowned and decided that he had made the right decision—if he'd requested to eat with them, he'd likely have been subject to much of the same for a prolonged period of time.


	5. First Contact

"So there's really no celebration?" Amanda queried as she set the box down on the carved rock that formed the principle recreational platform of their _yard_. Spock and Sarek wore cloaks—it was in the depths of _Irak'wak_—Vulcan's equivalent to Winter—and the temperature had dropped to its coldest predicted point. Amanda, on the other hand, wore only a sweater atop her normal clothing and seemed perfectly content despite the unfavorable climate.

"None," Sarek confirmed as she knelt before the box.

"You know," she said as she glanced between the two of them, "it was the first action of the unified government on Earth—unanimous ratification, in fact." She pulled the top of the box open and plucked from it a brightly colored cylinder. "The day we made first contact replaced the individual national pride celebrations."

"The first action of the unified government on Earth," Spock repeated just as Amanda has said it, "was...declaring a celebration?"

"Yes it was," Amanda beamed and handed him the cylinder. She attempted to pass one to Sarek but he was resolute and remained unmoving until she withdrew the object. With a roll of her eyes, she produced a lighter from her pocket. It activated with a hum and the small, flickering light cast an orange glow across her smile.

"When I was a kid," she started as she lit the end of her own cylinder and pointed it away. The top sizzled quietly for several seconds—the acrid nature of the smoke it let off was telling of its contents. "My father used to tell me that the fireworks represented the lights on the Vulcan ship."

"High resonance central luminescent lights—," Sarek began flatly and was interrupted.

"Don't look like fireworks, I know," Amanda admitted and turned her eyes on Sarek, "Humans will use any excuse to make things explode. So we went with it." As she finished explaining, the tube in her hand hissed sharply. Spock jumped slightly as it expelled a bright sphere of fuchsia light—the light twisted high into the air and exploded with a short pop. The subsequent ash glittered and fizzled out just as a second and third sphere shot forth from the cylinder.

"I love these," Amanda professed in between the noise and flashing. As the last shots fired, Spock glanced down to find his mother smiling wistfully at the sky and his father watching her intently. As the blue sphere spent itself, Amanda turned to him and offered to light his firework. She gave him a few warnings before lighting the end and aiming it well away from the house.

Had the weather been any clearer, the distant binary stars would have made the night far too bright for such celebration. As Spock watched the lights and his parents, he found that he didn't mind the cold quite so much.


	6. Christmas

"_Elise has the voice of an angel and Todd's drawings are legible—it actually looks like a horse, right Mandi?"_

The voice drifted up from the small PADD in his mother's lap. The light, golden and blue, flickered across her face as a variety of sounds resounded from the tiny screen. Amanda was seated on the edge of her personal sofa, her favored blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The lights in her study were low, and Spock had to squint to make out her expression as she watched the video.

"_Mom is dragging dad back from Mars this year—Elise is in the Cathedral's choir, we're going to see her sing from the front row!"_

Spock had learned, over the last couple of years, to identify the voice of Geoffrey Grayson II, his mother's brother. Even though the source was a small, weak PADD speaker, he was able to discern his voice very clearly as well as the standard sounds of his household. A young, sweet, high pitched voice interrupted his and Spock's eyebrows dipped—he'd never heard that one before.

"_Hi, Auntie Amanda! I hope you come out for Christmas, mom says you make the best cookies!"_

His mother's blank expression took on a dreamy quality as a very small smile lilted the edge of her lips. The girl on the other end rapidly listed her scholastic achievements, the names of her newly acquired pets, and started to sing a song he didn't recognize. Amanda's eyes looked sad as she stared down at the screen, but the smile on her lips conflicted with what he understood of that emotional state.

"_That's nice, hun, go make sure your brother isn't running with scissors."_ The voice of _Jeff_ returned as the girl's voice faded into another room. When he continued, his tone was much more somber. "_You're always welcome for the holidays, Mandi. Wav me if you can make it out."_

His mother watched the screen as it blanked and the PADD trilled the end of the communication. Spock had trouble focusing on her in the dimness—when it intensified upon the blanking of the screen, he was nearly incapable of seeing her expression. What he did see, however, was the trail of wetness on her cheek—the dimness didn't hide the hitch in her breathing as she tapped the screen, or the sniff she emitted as the wav played again.

Spock moved away from the doorway as she replayed the short communication. His mind raced as he assessed the situation—he had never seen his mother cry, but he was well aware of the symptoms associated with the verb and the nature of what it indicated. His mother was sad and something about that fact was unacceptable.

Assuming that her sadness stemmed from the contents of that communication, or a related variable, Spock determined that the fastest method by which to rectify the situation was to accept the offer of boarding from his mother's brother. If seeing these people made her happy—and the inability to do so brought her to tears—then his solution would bring about her happiness again. The question, now, was how to bring this solution to fruition—even he understood that it was a significantly more complicated task than simply accepting the invitation.

Vulcan and Earth were very far apart.

After several moments of contemplation, Spock concluded that the person most capable of rendering aid was his father. This brought new issues, however—now Spock had to find a way to convince his father to undertake this particular course of action. _How?_ His mind questioned and was simultaneously answered by the word: _Logically._

With confidence, Spock started up the stairs toward his father's meditation room. His assuredness, however, was not as solid as the distance and it bled out of him with each step toward the chamber at the end of the hall. He lingered outside the door, his hands clutched at his sides, and tried to formulate a sound, logical argument for his case.

"Spock. Come in, if you intend to." His father's voice was sudden and he flinched in surprise as it resounded through the doorway. As an uncomfortable sensation settled in the pit of his stomach, Spock stood straight and entered the chamber. It was brightly lit, the incense were doused, and his father was standing near the windows that overlooked Shi'Kahr. His father didn't face him as he entered, and waited for Spock to speak. Eventually, Spock gathered his confidence and stepped forward to his father's side.

"I have come to the conclusion that a brief sojourn to Earth would be beneficial," Spock stated quickly and the tense silence that followed his words tightened the sensation in his stomach. "Mother has indicated a preference for this series of events, and it would be logical to cultivate familial ties on both sides of my...family." Spock hesitated as he finished and the silence maintained.

"You are well spoken," Sarek responded and Spock took in a sharp, silent breath. He could count the times his father had praised him on one hand. "But the matter is irrelevant."

"Irrelevant?" Spock asked quickly and his eyes darted to his father's flat expression—a swell of anger twisted through him and he clutched his fists as he quelled it.

"You have seen the communication from Geoffrey Grayson?" Sarek prompted evenly. Spock's cheeks felt hot and he looked back out the window—glad that his father was not watching him.

"Yes."

"I see," Sarek replied and the silence settled between them again. As much as Spock wanted to speak, he couldn't find the conviction to do so, despite his mother's tears. "To keep you uninformed could complicate matters." Spock's breathing caught as his eyes darted back up to his father's impassive face. "I have arranged travel to Earth. Our journey will coincide with the December holidays."

"And mother's brother?" Spock asked—at this Sarek cast him a disdainful look. In no way had his question been a proper sentence, it belied his eagerness all to clearly.

"I have informed him as well." Sarek inclined his head and arched an eyebrow at Spock. "Your mother has also indicated a preference for surprises. Do not inform her of this conversation or its contents."

Spock nodded and managed to restrain his light smile until he'd left his father's sight. When he returned to his designated room, he used his connection to the intercommunications network and accessed every text he could gather on Earth traditions surrounding Christmas. Apparently singing was greatly encouraged—he decided that learning such a trivial thing as a Christmas Carol was logical if he classified it as cultural preparedness.

Amanda Grayson had cried, berated both Spock and his father, and smiled for a solid week once they revealed the itinerary of their journey. She'd professed that she couldn't love them any more than she did and Spock sang for her a tune designated "_Jingle bells"_. She'd been so shocked, she'd stumbled as she bent to hug him. In retrospect, if the ideal outcome was to prevent his mother from crying, he'd failed quite spectacularly.


End file.
